Crime and Punishment
by wisdominfic
Summary: Tim Drake has been sentenced to serve time in the Bludhaven Juvenile Detention Center, a place notorious for old-fashioned discipline. He decides to turn his misfortune into a mission. Can he learn the secrets of the gangs held within? Warning contains CP
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: Hey guys, I know it's been awhile since I've posted anything, sorry about that. I was way too busy to write, but now I have some free time and I want to crank this baby out this summer. Special thanks goes out to Pdantzler2 for being my beta. :) Enjoy!

--

Tim was bleary-eyed on the morning of the court trial. He and Bruce had been up all night creating and memorizing a system of subtle codes they could use on the supervised visits they would have while Tim was in the Bludhaven Juvenile Detention Center.

Tim hadn't yet been sentenced to serve time, but Bruce and his lawyers were 99 percent sure he would be. Tim was charged with "disturbing the peace," "resisting arrest," and "violence against an officer of the law." At the time, he was just trying to do what was best for the situation stopping some thugs from causing trouble, covering for Kon, who had run from the officer, and covering for himself by physically immobilizing Officer Kevin Miller of the Gotham PD to keep him from discovering his hidden costume and weapons. Apparently, these things didn't look too good to the police, and Tim Drake was being made "an example of." Being the ward of Bruce Wayne didn't help at all; in fact Bruce's lawyers were sure it would mean harsher sentence than usual.

When Tim first heard what would most likely be the consequences of his actions, he was shocked. Batman had already punished Robin for his mistakes! But soon he realized his luck. He would be able to get an up close and personal look at the criminals in training at the Bludhaven Juvenile Detention Center. Why did they stay in so long? How come so many young Biagios and their cousins were placed in that particular center? The youths came out "model citizens" and were suspiciously far away from any crimes the companies they worked for committed.

Tim had been pondering his predicament in every spare moment of time when he wasn't getting coached on how to come off as a teenage miscreant by Bruce or being told how to fake injuries by Alfred. He was expected to play the role of a misguided teen in court too, with evidence being pointed at his late parents' deaths. Bruce was going to say how hard the adjustment had been for the kid, how he was trying all he could to straighten the boy up. Maybe he just wasn't that strict (yeah right, Tim snorted into his hand when Bruce had tried this acting bit out over dinner and received a stern look that was belied by smiling eyes)? Maybe someone else ought to take over? And bingo, Tim would be wrenched out of court and into a van, off to some school-like detention center that emphasized "old-fashioned" punishments and rules for its wayward charges.

Tim sat in the backseat of the limo, twiddling his thumbs next to Bruce, who was talking quickly and loudly to his lawyers. Tim had managed to sport a few cuts on his face and even a pretty good shiner, thanks to the scraps of a few nights ago. He wore a sweater vest, collard shirt, nice slacks and shoes, but rolled his sleeves up lazily and mussed up his hair. It was supposed to say,

"I was forced to wear these clothes, but I cannot hide my delinquent ways from anyone."

The teen fidgeted a bit; even with all his training and preparation he was still a little worried, somewhere deep inside. He wished Bruce would get off the phone so he could have a few last minutes of peace, before he was sure what would be a turbulent next few hours. As if the man could read his thoughts, Bruce did. His guardian even laid a comforting hand on his shoulder,

"Don't worry Tim. You'll be fine. I'll be watching."

Tim smiled, "But you don't have to watch too closely."

"I know, son."

"Master Bruce, we have arrived." Alfred chimed in.

It was true – they had arrived outside the court house, and a throng of reporters, cameramen, and paparazzi were there to greet them.

"Ready, Tim?" Bruce slung his black leather case over his shoulder and offered his hand to Tim.

"Ready, Bruce." Tim grabbed the larger hand and squeezed. Bruce nodded and then turned to get out of the car; Alfred was outside, reaching for the handle. The large hand that had been grasping his smaller hand let go and then painfully grabbed his upper arm. Tim felt himself yanked out of the car, and he immediately began to play the role of the reluctant teenage delinquent. Bruce yanked him through the chaotic mass of people, and they avoided answering any questions. Tim had tried not to, but he couldn't help overhearing some of the questions shouted at him,

"Has all that money from your new daddy made you want more? Is that why you're acting up?"

"Tim, was it Jack Drake's bad influence that caused you to commit these crimes?"

"Did you think you would be above the law because of your guardians' standing in society?"

"Mr. Drake! Mr. Drake! What would the late Mr. and Mrs. Drake think of your behavior if they were here now?"

Tim felt anger well up in him. Well, certainly his actions hadn't been that bad! Damn media distortion. And why all this talk about his parents? It was disrespectful to bring up the dead in such a way! Jerks. He decided to channel his anger though, use it to reinforce his acting. He gritted his teeth and scowled and even made to kick at one of the reporters. Bruce noticed and tightened his hold on Tim and yanked. It was enough pain to bring tears to the boy's eyes, and Tim let the tears linger there and blur his vision. It was all so surreal, this moment. He was glad he was faking it, he would hate to see the look on his late parent's faces if they thought he had become trouble.

The trial, for all the media attention, actually wasn't very long. Tim, in character, reluctantly pleaded guilty, Bruce's lawyers brought up their bargain, and the judge reviewed the bargain and with an approving smile accepted it,

"I'm glad you have chosen the Bludhaven Juvenile Detention Center. They have proven methods and great results."

The center had already been contacted by Bruce's lawyers, and they were ready to accept Tim today.

"Excellent. So that takes care of that..." The judge said with a satisfied grin and a bang of his gavel, "Next!"

Tim had expected to be there longer, so he was taken by surprise when his upper arm was grasped by the bailiff, and he was pulled away from Bruce and his lawyers. He looked back towards Bruce, his eyes wide and pleading for a second, but then remembered the role he was playing and tried, unsuccessfully, to shrug the guard off.

"I can walk by myself!" Tim huffed.

"Kid, you don't want to mess with me," the bailiff growled back at him. The man was tall, at least 6'3", and with a wide, muscular frame. He had brawn but he was probably pretty slow, Tim assessed. But of course his alter ego wouldn't notice these things. So Tim just frowned and let himself be pulled along.

He was soon bodily pushed into a gray van with the words, "Bludhaven Juvenile Detention Center" spelled out in cursive along its side. He looked around and noticed that the bag Alfred had packed for him wasn't there waiting for him.

"Hey, dude, where's all my stuff?" Tim barked at the driver.

"Ha!" the balding man laughed, "like we're dumb enough to let you kids take your own clothes with whatever weapons hidden in them to the Center. Yeah right. After your strip search, you'll get a regulation uniform to wear."

A strip search? Wow, these guys were serious. Tim supposed he'd have to find his own ways to make weapons and take notes while in the Center, but he was resourceful and could probably handle it.

Tim leaned back against the hard plastic of the bench seat and gazed out at the city as it flew by. So much had happened in the past few days. There would be no hanging out with Kon, no Justice League meetings with Batman, no late night web surfing, no casual and ultimately disappointing dates with girls he would have to constantly bail on. Well, maybe there was some benefit to getting away for a bit.

The van bumped on down the road, and Tim's stomach churned in anticipation for what was to come.


	2. Chapter 2

Tim preoccupied himself during the van trip by reviewing all of what he and Bruce had gone over together the night before. If Tim ever dug his fingernails into his palms, for example, that meant he needed Batman's secret help. But if Tim pinched the bridge of his nose more than twice he needed Bruce Wayne's visible help. It seemed weird but they would be easily recognized by only a person who was looking for them. There were over two dozen of these subtle codes, should Tim need to alert Bruce off-the-record in one of their supervised visits.

Tim had realized a long time ago that the best way to memorize information was to force yourself to care about what you needed to learn. Even if you didn't care at all, you could if you told yourself you did enough times. Or at least that was what worked for Tim Drake. But this time, Tim really cared. Who knew what he could expect inside? He had never been a delinquent before.

Sooner than he expected the van took a sharp right turn down a dirt road. Tall oak trees lined the street and they soon came to a tall iron gate. Tim noticed an old sign off to the right side that read,

"Bludhaven Juvenile Detention Center - A Place for Boys"

A place for boys? Tim laughed to himself. Could that sign be any more general or vague? A ballpark could be a place for boys. An arcade could be a place for boys. A now he was coming to this, a place for boys.

The van gained clearance through the gate (apparently there were a few guard stations around the perimeter) and continued for about a half mile through manicured green lawns with ample shade. Up ahead Tim could see four buildings. One large old white stone structure, five stories tall, complete with turrets at the edges and a bell tower. The other buildings were also white stone structures, but smaller, simpler in design, and only one story each. There was a basketball court, swimming pool, track, and some sort of obstacle course in a nearby field. Maybe this won't be too bad, thought Tim. The strange thing was, it was the middle of the day and no one was outside. He supposed there was probably a strict schedule or something like that.

As the van neared the stone stairs that led up to the main building's large red doors, two large men and one middle aged woman came out to greet them. The van stopped and the balding man got out and open Tim's door.

"Why hello young man." The woman stepped forward with her hand outstretched. Tim shook it reluctantly. She was about his height, so she wasn't very tall, and her form was slight, but her presence commanded respect. Tim knew what she wanted, and he was going to make her work for it.

"Hey." Tim said with a shrug.

"Excuse me?" The woman's smile was still intact but her eyes became fiercer in their gaze.

"Hello?" Tim offered.

"Hello 'ma'am'." She corrected and then waited a moment for him to repeat her.

"Hello ma'am." Tim said, showing a tiny bit of annoyance in his voice.

"That's better. Good boy. My, you'd think Bruce Wayne's ward would have better manners! But if you did I guess you wouldn't be here, right?" She laughed too much at her own statement and the gentlemen next to her joined in.

"Well, Mr. Drake, let me be the first to welcome you to Bludhaven Juvenile Detention Center. I'm Mrs. Stark, the headmistress here. We've been successfully turning unruly boys into well-behaved men since 1905!" Mrs. Stark chuckled delightedly again and the men behind her nodded in agreement.

She continued,

"You may have been able to get away with a lot outside our cozy pastures, but now that you're here, we're family, Mr. Drake. And in my family, Mr. Drake, boys treat their elders with respect. And not only their elders, Mr. Drake, but themselves and their peers."

"Okay-" Tim tried to speak.

"Please don't interrupt. That is very rude." There were those sharp eyes again. Even though Tim was playing a game with all of this, it was still unnerving. He began to feel like he wanted this woman to like him. She was good at this, very good.

"Mr. Drake, there are 50 other boys within our humble halls. 50 very privileged little boys who are getting the chance of a lifetime! The chance to turn their lives around and get a fresh start in society. You may not agree with our methods, most children don't at first, but they are proven and we believe in them. Come, Tim, let's take a little walk."

They started up the stone steps and the two men opened the door for them to pass through.

"A good gentleman always opens a door for a lady." Mrs. Stark said pointedly.

"This door in front of us leads into the main office, Mr. Drake, and it's where clerical work is done. It's also where you should report if you are ever summoned to my office. I expect any student who is called to my office to come within the half-hour that I have sent the message. You don't want me to come after you myself, Mr. Drake." She chuckled again.

They continued on a tour through the building, and Tim was shown several classrooms, many of them full of students, divided up by age. There was a large cafeteria, an assembly room, restrooms, and what Mrs. Stark called "time-out rooms". She kept making allusions to these proven "methods" but for the most part she said that Tim would find out more on his own.

The third floor was the entirety of the boys dormitories. Once again split up by age, but also by behavior.

"Mr. Drake, due to the appalling charges of your ruling, and your record of resorting to physical violence, you will be under strict lock-down for the first week. You will get a small room for yourself, but it is by no means private."

She showed him to a series of rooms, they were well-lit with just enough room for a bed and a small dresser. Windows connected all the rooms to each other, the outside, and the hallway. It was like living in a little glass box. How strange, Tim thought. Like a prison cell, but nicer.

"Boys start out living in these rooms when they arrive here, and then, based on their behavior, they move elsewhere. Just because you might one day graduate to a more private room doesn't mean you couldn't end up back here. You will be escorted to and from the restroom at night at designated times. The times for restroom breaks are posted on the dresser inside, so plan accordingly."

Plan accordingly? Tim thought. How can a person plan for when nature calls? This extreme organization was nuts. It might be hard to slip out of it and observe, at least at first.

Next he was taken to a station where they kept all of the uniforms. He was measured and handed a bundle of clothing, then told to change in an adjacent room. The uniform hadn't seemed to have changed with time, it was very classic - navy blue shorts with dart pleats at the top, a crisp white oxford shirt, a navy blue tie and socks, a navy blue button up sweater, and brown leather shoes. Tim put the items on, they looked like an ensemble Alfred would make him wear for an afternoon tea at Bruce's country club. But he didn't want to look too comfortable in such a get-up.

"Aw, don't you look nice!" Mrs. Stark exclaimed as Tim reappeared.

"Thanks." Tim forced his eyes away from her face and to the ground.

"Excuse me?"

"Thanks ma'am."

"You're very welcome Tim. I'm sure you were once a very sweet little boy, but improper methods of discipline and a society that thrives on chaos has changed you."

Tim wasn't sure what to say to that so he just remained quiet.

"But never you worry, we'll get that sweet little boy back...even if it takes all summer." She smiled and her eyes shined with a sort of crazed promise.

"Whatever." Tim muttered.

Her eyes became slits and she moved fast to bend down and smack Tim on the back of his left thigh.

"Ow! Holy shit!" Tim yelled out in surprise.

Her hand come towards him again, this time grabbing his jaw and chin in a tight grip.

"Young man, there will be no back talk. There will be no cursing." Mrs. Stark flexed the hand that had touched his face, and then let it slap him lightly on his cheek.

"I'm letting you off with a warning this time, Mr. Drake." She grabbed his ear and pinched, Tim's eyes widened but he did not cry out.

"Jose!" She snapped, and one of her men came towards Tim.

"Please take Mr. Drake to Professor Woo's class. I have a feeling he'll need a firm hand, at least at first."

"Yes ma'am." Jose grabbed Tim's upper arm and began to lead him down the hall.

"You shouldn't have crossed Mrs. Stark, kid, now your first week is going to be even harder." Jose tsk'd and shook his head.

Tim was just trying to act his part! His ear throbbed and he tried to shake his nerves off. Being snarky with criminals was one thing, but with heavy-handed authority figures - something completely different.


	3. Chapter 3

Tim was deposited by Jose right into Professor Woo's strong handshake.

"Welcome, Mr. Drake."

This was Tim's first time to be seen by other boys, so he needed to make a good impression.

"Uh huh." Tim avoided eye contact, shifted his weight in way that he hoped said, 'I'm too cool for this'.

Professor Woo's dark eyes moved to find Tim's, and the man's eyebrows furrowed.

"When I speak to you, Mr. Drake, I expect to be spoken to in return. I'll let this transgression slide, because either you are ignorant, or you don't know the weight of your every action just yet. Take this seat here, in the front row."

That sounded slightly ominous. Tim slid into the desk seat, trying not to look too eager. In truth, he was very curious what was going to be taught here. Would it be traditional subjects like math and English, or would it be something else, like etiquette? Professor Woo turned back to the board and began to diagram a sentence. Oh, so it was to be English. But also etiquette, Tim noticed the words in the sentence, 'Good boys always say 'please' and 'thank you''. Professor Woo was a short but rather muscular man, probably in his late 20s or early 30s. He wrote gracefully but firmly and he spoke in a voice that while it was soft, it also carried all the way to the back of the room.

Tim decided to sneak a peak at the other boys, it was a little difficult, he was in the very front of the room, but he was able to look back when Woo began to write out a new sentence. They seemed to be around his age, maybe a few older, and mostly looked bored. A few boys seemed to be taking notes and paying attention, they were probably here for minor infractions and looking to get out on good behavior as soon as possible. He saw one boy, with blond hair and light eyes and a cut on his lower lip pass a note to a dark-haired boy who smiled slyly. Tim glanced away quickly so they wouldn't see him looking at them. Hmm, those guys looked cocky and suspicious. He would have to remember to follow their actions. If they were popular here, he would try to become friends with them.

After thirty more minutes of lecture a bell rang and the boys got up, one by one, to file out of the room. It wasn't the typical rush to get out of a classroom at bell, he noticed, but this wasn't a typical school. Tim stayed behind, he wasn't actually sure where he was supposed to go or what he was supposed to do.

Professor Woo didn't look surprised, "It's lunchtime, you'll line up to eat in the cafeteria. There is no talking at lunch. When the bell rings again you'll be let out into the yard. You're allowed to talk there, and encouraged to exercise. The bell will ring after 40 minutes and you'll come back to this room."

Tim nodded, "Thanks."

Professor Woo smiled slightly and gestured to the open door, which Tim went through.

---

Woo was right, lunch was very ordered and quiet. Everyone was handed the same food on a plastic tray and then an orderly pointed to the next available seat. The boy took that seat and then ate without looking at the others. This made his first day easier, for sure, he had time to plan his actions outside. Tim thought the cafeteria would be a good place to observe cliques at work, but with this method they were entirely avoided. Two boys leaned in to whisper to each other at a table across from Tim, but as soon as he observed them one of the orderlies marched over and smacked each kid in the back of the head with a rolled up piece of paper or something - like you would do to a naughty puppy. They immediately parted. One looked annoyed while the other ashamed. Tim quickly finished his mixed vegetables and meatloaf. He hadn't realized it but he was starving. So much had happened since he and Bruce parted this morning. He hoped his guardian's reputation wouldn't be too soiled by his actions. He wondered if Dick knew he was here, if he would be upset with him if he knew he was serving time at a juvenile detention center.

Sooner than he expected, the bell rang and the boys began to file into the adjacent yard. Tim walked out behind an Indian boy who had been sitting next to him. The bright sunshine blinded him for a second and he squinted and shaded his eyes with his hand. When his vision cleared he noticed a police officer in uniform standing near the middle of the yard, hands on his hips. Maybe it could get a little rough at recess. When Tim tried to get a closer look at the officer's face, he blanched. No, it couldn't be!

But it was, standing before him, tall and strong, shiny name tag displayed for all to see was Bludhaven Police Officer Richard Grayson.


	4. Chapter 4

Tim stumbled back for a second in shock. What was Dick doing here?! Was this some kind of set up? Quickly he realized that he might draw attention if he acted too strangely, so he pretended like it was just the blinding sunshine that had bothered him. He stumbled into a shadow of the building and made to observe his surroundings.

Around the outside of the large yard there was a basketball court, a running track, and some exercise equipment. Some boys immediately ran to the basketball court and began playing. Others milled about, and then, it happened - the boys started separating into groups. Tim recognized the blond boy from Professor Woo's class, he casually strutted over to some monkey bars and several other boys eagerly followed. The blond kid had an overly relaxed attitude and a smirk on his face. It was clear the other boys meant to please him. Tim was happy that his instincts were correct, it looked like this kid had some authority around here. Well, he thought, now is as good a time as ever to make friends.

Tim made a beeline directly for the other boy. The small crowd saw him coming and parted.

"Hi, I'm Tim." He said, thrusting his hand out.

"I know who you are." The blond said hotly.

Tim's eyes narrowed at the brusk statement. Apparently he was going to have to work at this. Maybe it was time to give some attitude back.

"Well, I don't know who you are."

"Too bad." The blond shrugged.

"I guess I'll just have to call you 'Blondie', then, if I don't know your real name." Tim sneered.

"Oh yeah? Just try it, shit face." The kid's relaxed posture suddenly straightened.

"I told you Blondie, my name is Tim." Tim laughed, unaffected by Blondie's words.

"You dare to call the Boss names, punk?" The dark-haired boy who Tim saw talking to Blondie in class earlier stepped forward.

"If he doesn't care enough to tell me his name, I have to come up with some way to separate him from the herd."

"He'll tell you his name when you earn it."

Tim carefully chose his words, "I'm sorry, I didn't know this place regressed you kids to idiots and retards, or maybe you were just born that way."

And they had their desired effect. Blondie launched himself at Tim, his face red with embarrassment and his fists out. Tim saw the attack coming, easily, and shifted out of range. Blondie turned towards him after stumbling and spit out,

"You dare insult *my* family?!"

Ah ha, so maybe he was one of the pure bred Biagios - a proud Italian family that had been in Gotham for ages. Now they were getting somewhere.

"How could I insult your family when I don't even know who you are?" Tim mused.

"You know who I am!" Blondie shouted back.

"First you don't want me to know and now you swear I do! You're a strange little boy."

The 'little boy' comment really did it. Blondie was out for blood and respect. Tim reckoned he wouldn't get either.

Blondie took another swing which Tim blocked. Tim took the opportunity to give the other boy a light but painful punch to the stomach. It wouldn't do any permanent damage, but it would definitely knock the wind out of his sails. The second Blondie went down his groupies all rushed at Tim. Normally he would somersault backwards as 'Robin' but he never did that as 'Tim' as a matter of principle. So what now?

"BOYS!" A whistle blew and the officer began to run over to the huddle. The group immediately spread out, leaving Tim standing next to the fallen Blondie.

"Boys! Who started this fight?" Dick's blue eyes were alight as he scanned the scene before him.

"He did!"

"Tim did it!"

Blondie's friends were keen on ratting him out, it seemed.

"Who?" Dick spun on his heel and leaned down to get a better look at the culprit. For a brief second surprise shown on his face before he roughly hauled Tim to him.

"I haven't seen you around here before." Dick quipped.

"He's new, sir." Blondie said from the ground.

"Thank you, Frankie, I can see that." Dick looked down at the kid, "Get up, Frankie, and stop pretending to be the victim."

"But he punched me! In the stomach!" Frankie whined. He didn't look too happy. His name had just been revealed and he wasn't given any pity.

"Oh yeah?" Dick looked back to Tim, "Did you punch him?"

Tim wasn't sure if he should tell the truth or not.

"Yeah, so what?" Tim shrugged.

"So what?" Dick spat, "There is no fighting in the yard. You throw the first punch, you start the fight."

Technically Tim hadn't started the fight. Frankie had made two attempts to hit him before Tim's punch actually connected.

"He was asking for it." Tim decided not to tell on the other boy and Frankie looked up at him, surprised.

"And you're asking for a whipping, starting a fight for nothing." Dick eyes widened and he shook Tim a little.

"Like you even know, old man." Tim knew he was asking for it, but maybe if he pushed the issue he would be able to talk to Dick privately for a moment.

"Old man?" Dick let out a snort, "Okay, tough guy, you've just earned yourself a physical punishment. Push me further and it'll be public."

Public? That didn't sound good. Tim said nothing but didn't look away from Dick's hard gaze.

"When the bell rings you are to report back to me. Understand?"

Tim nodded. The older man let go and stalked back to the center of the yard with long, purposeful strides.

"Damn." Frankie spoke up once Dick was out of hearing range. It was just the two of them near the monkey bars. The other boys had spread out and were nowhere to be seen.

Tim offered the other kid a hand and Frankie took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

"You didn't tell on me." Frankie still looked a little shocked.

"Of course not." Tim said with a slight smile.

"You don't want to push Officer Grayson. He can be nice but he's never lenient. He's only been here a few weeks, but he's damn tough." Frankie offered, "He's also much stronger than he looks."

"Hmm. I reckon I can handle it." Tim said.

"Yeah? Well, you got some guts, Tim, I'll give you that. Good luck." The handsome boy said with a mischievous tilt of his head, before walking to meet his groupies again.

As Tim watched him go he wondered, was this a truce between them? They definitely weren't friends yet and he wasn't sure if Frankie really respected him, but at least it didn't seem like he wanted to kick his ass anymore. A step in the right direction.

Tim spent the rest of the recess doing chin ups and push ups. He purposefully avoided the other boys. He didn't want to have another scene so soon after what had just happened. He actually hadn't meant to cause a disruption, especially on the first day. But now that it had happened, maybe it was for the best (for his reputation at least). Dick had said he was going to get a 'physical punishment'. What was that? Tim really hoped he wasn't actually going to go through with it, whatever it was. But he had a bad feeling deep down that Dick would. Dick took this business seriously. If Dick was working undercover, he wouldn't do anything to give himself away. What was it that Dick would always say about going undercover? It was something like, "If you're going to be dressed like a woman, at least pee sitting down." At the time Tim first heard it he had laughed and laughed. "You think I'm not serious?" Dick had questioned, "This work, it's all about details. You miss a detail, you open yourself up for trouble." How ironic that focusing on the details in this role *would* get him in trouble, if he did it right. Ugh. What have I gotten myself into, Tim thought miserably.

The bell rang much sooner than Tim had been anticipating. The boys quickly filed out of the yard back into the building before Tim even knew what was happening. The boy ambled over to larger officer, who had on a pair of reflective shades.

"Good, little boy, you remembered." Dick said with a smirk. Oh, he was definitely playing a part.

Tim rolled his eyes. He could play along.

"Don't you give me any attitude, unless you want worse than you're already gettin'." Dick snapped.

"I don't even know what I'm getting. This is my first day here." Tim said, somewhat earnestly.

"Oh? What're you in for?" Dick asked as he led Tim back into the building.

"Getting into a fight with a good-for-nothing police officer." The comment wasn't missed on Dick.

"Is that so? So fighting isn't so unusual for you?"

"Guess not." Tim wanted to laugh. He and Dick fought crime together all the time.

"Mrs. Stark has very strict and rigid rules when it comes to fighting. Unfortunately for you, you had to test those rules on the first day. Fortunately, you haven't pushed me enough to make the punishment public. It would be a shame for your first day to end with you getting the belt before the entire center at dinner." Dick raised an eyebrow at the boy.

Tim blanched at the statement, "Wh-What?"

"Every night boys who have been especially bad, you know, stolen something, lied repeatedly, threatened a teacher, etc, get 5 strokes of the belt in front of the whole center. Mrs. Stark firmly believes in this sort of punishment. I have to admit, it's a pretty effective deterrent." Dick explained.

"Seems barbaric." Tim pointed out.

"Yeah? Well, so does fighting for no reason." Dick had him there.

The two had come to a stop in front of Dick's office.

"So what now?" Tim turned to Dick and asked, his eyes giving away that he was slightly afraid.

"You own up and pay the price, Tim."


	5. Chapter 5

"Come into my office...what was the name again?" Dick asked.

"Tim...," The boy started, "Tim Drake."

"Right in here, Mr. Drake." Dick motioned for him to walk into the room.

It was a white-walled interior office, no windows, with a large oak desk in the center and a fake fern in the corner. Tim couldn't detect any visible security cameras, but that didn't mean one wasn't in here.

"Have a seat." Dick pointed to a straight-backed wooden chair before taking a seat in a plush leather business chair on the other side of the desk.

"Tim," Dick started, "this is no way to begin here. Believe me, starting fights will only get you in more trouble. All the other boys will begin to notice, and you'll get a reputation - a bad one."

Tim nodded. That was exactly what he needed to know. If starting fights got him notice, got him 'cred', then he was willing to start a fight everyday. But what price would he pay on the side of authority?

"Do you understand?" Dick asked.

"Yes." Tim murmured.

"Yes...?"

"Yes, sir." Tim answered.

"Fighting is a level 5 infraction. Level 5 infractions earn you a spanking with the paddle. I shouldn't have to tell you this, it's all in the handbook in your bedside drawer." Dick said.

Tim could only hear buzzing in his head for a minute as his breath was sucked out of him. He hadn't even had a moment to read the handbook yet!

"I only just got here today. My court trial was this morning for the crimes of a few days ago." Tim said softly, catching Dick up. There must be security cameras or microphones or something, Dick wasn't showing any sign that he knew Tim.

"I would take it easy on you, kid, but that won't do you any good in this place. You'll see." Dick had a certain glint in his eye for a moment. Was it worry? Pity?

"Seeing as how you didn't know, I'll let you keep your shorts on." Dick said as he stood up. "Get up and stretch over the desk." The tall uniformed officer ordered as he pulled a rectangular paddle out of the desk drawer.

Tim felt sick to his stomach. Bruce had never used a paddle on him before. Sure, he'd felt the sting of a hairbrush, belt, even a ruler, but never this. Tim wanted to beg, wanted to plead. If this were between the real Dick and Tim or Nightwing and Robin he probably would. But no, he needed to play the part, he *had* knocked the other boy to the ground, after all.

"Whatever." Tim said with a roll of his eyes as he reached over the desk, gripping the other side with his hands.

"Put that attitude away," Dick said sternly, "And control yourself. If you move around too much you'll find yourself held down over my knee. Got it?"

Tim nodded and his nose touched the cool wood surface of the desk.

The was a silent moment between them and then Tim felt the paddle tap him lightly before a soft swoosh of air and a loud CRACK! was heard. Tim jolted forward.

Another tap, swoosh, crack! and another and another. Dick was laying the heavy blows down one after the other. Tim's hands were white from his firm grip. Small beads of sweat were forming on his skin and his cheek slid a little when he set his face down to rest.

"What have we learned?" Dick asked. He voice was hard. It gave away nothing.

Tim was silent. He knew Dick had asked him a question but the idea of speaking seemed beyond him at the moment.

Tap, swoosh, CRACK!, tap, swoosh, CRACK!, the paddle smacked the back of his thighs twice in rapid succession.

"Uh-Uh, that there is no fighting in the yard!" Tim almost screamed.

"Why should we not fight?" Dick questioned.

"B-Because it's wrong, uncivilized." Tim answered shutting his eyes tight as tears began to pool in them.

Dick cracked the paddle across his backside three more times and then spoke again, "What is the right way to address someone?"

"With words..." Tim ground out, "with civil words."

The paddle hit its target once more and then was heavily laid to rest on the desk right next to Tim's face.

"Good boy." Dick said softly. He reached out and grabbed the kid under his arms and helped pull the boy to his feet. The kid was a mess, his face red with tracks of tears across it, his bangs soaked with sweat. He was shaking.

Tim wanted to receive a hug so badly. Bruce always hugged him after a harsh punishment, it helped relieve some of the empty, helpless feeling he always got during a physical punishment.

"You alright?" Dick questioned. And it *was* him. It was Dick's voice. Tim stared up in blue eyes and saw kindness...and sadness.

"Yes, sir," Tim answered, "I think so sir."

"I'll let them give you a rest before dinner, so you don't have to go back to class." Dick handed Tim a few tissues and patted him lightly on the shoulder. It felt so nice, Tim tried not to lean into it too much.

"Thank you." Tim said. He didn't really blame Dick, but man, he sure did hate this place.

"Of course. I'll be here. If you get in trouble in the yard again, you'll answer to me. If you just want to talk sometime, I might be able to arrange it."

Tim was filled with hope. All he needed was five private minutes alone with Dick to talk!

"Okay." Tim said, his face brightened considerably.

Dick opened the office door and there stood Jose, waiting for him.

"Escort Mr. Drake to his dorm, he's getting some private time in there before dinner." Dick spoke with even more authority to the stout orderly.

"Yes, sir, officer." Jose said with a nod of his head. Impressive, thought Tim.

-----

When Tim was dropped off in his see-through room, he immediately laid down on the bed and sobbed into the pillow. His backside felt like the blows were still being laid on it, and he had never felt so confused. He was raised to obey authority, he knew right from wrong (mostly) but this guy he was playing, he didn't. Tim realized he had weeks and weeks more to go through. He felt homesick, and lonely. Dick was here, sure, but he didn't know why and he couldn't even talk to him yet.

It was barely the beginning and Tim was already starting to lose it.


	6. Chapter 6

Tim woke up in a cold sweat. It was dark in his cramped little cubicle room. Someone was knocking on the glass door.

"Tim?"

It was Jose, one of the detention center's guards.

Tim wiped his damp forehead and sat up.

"Yes?" Tim's voice croaked.

"It's dinner time, boy." Jose said with a curt nod as he unlocked and opened the door.

Tim straightened his shirt and tie as he walked into the lit hallway. The lights blinded him and he became all too aware of a pounding headache behind his temples. His stomach groaned and his backside ached. Ah yes, the discipline he received from Dick. Tim felt terrible and was sure he looked it as well. Of course, he couldn't let the other boys know he had already been beat down. It was only the first day.

He forced his face into a smug look and took up a more confident stride as he came into the cafeteria. He refused to look weak in front of these boys.

SMACK!

The smug look was quickly replaced with one of confusion and terror. Up on the wide stage at the front of the dining room sat four boys in a row. Except they weren't sitting so much as bent over a long bench, each one of their backsides exposed for the whole cafeteria to see. And there was Ms. Stark, front and center, wielding a nastily familiar-looking paddle.

Tim' s hand went up to cover his mouth in shock.

"Keep moving," Jose hissed in his ear, "The dinner line won't stay open all night."

Tim was all too happy to have a reason to look away from the embarrassing scene before him. A spaghetti dinner was handed to him on a beige tray along with a carton of milk and his was pointed to his seat. Most of the other boys had finished eating already, though a few were still staring at their trays, forcing small bites to their mouths. Some boys winced with each smack that rang out from the stage, while others tried to hide giggles and smirks.

Tim couldn't quite make out who was getting it. He quietly wondered if Frankie was up there.

"Gregory was caught with two packs of cigarettes underneath his bed. Five strokes."

Ms. Stark's clear voice rang out across the room. She then proceeded with the five smacks, pausing between each one as if for dramatic effect. There were stage lights on, and Ms. Stark's blonde hair shined like honey in the sun as she moved with confidence and precision. She turned for a moment and Tim caught a glimpse of her face - on it was plastered a bright and cheerful smile, belied by fierce and angry eyes. Tim shuddered.

Tim's backside still hurt, but at this moment he was so happy to be amongst the crowd of boys, and not one of the few alienated upon the stage. After Ms. Stark finished with Gregory, she told the boys they were allowed to get up. They all struggled to their feet, righted their clothing, and turned to face the woman and the rest of the cafeteria.

"Thank you for our correction." All four voices rang out at once.

"You are very, very welcome." Ms. Stark beamed. The boys walked toward her one at a time, and - Tim couldn't believe his eyes - hugged her. She held on to each boy for a moment, whispered something in his ear, and then the boys came shakily down to take their seats.

"What the?" Tim hadn't realized he was speaking aloud.

"Pretty nuts, isn't it?" A voice whispered beside him.

Tim turned to his right and saw a red-haired boy, about his age and height, shaking his head.

"Just...in front of everyone?" Tim questioned.

"Every. Single. Night." The red-haired boy nodded, "You're new here, right?"

"Yeah, the name's Tim. Tim Drake."

"Howdy. My name's Theo, but everyone calls me Tex, on account of the fact that I'm from Texas." Tex winked and smirked. He had an earnest yet mischievous look on his freckled face.

"Hey Tex, nice to meet you." Tim genuinely meant what he said, he felt that Tex was a pretty good kid, and he had only just glimpsed him. Tim was pretty good with first impressions.

"Psst, Drake, we'd better talk later. Do you have recreation time free?" Tex eyed a nearby guard warily.

"Uh...I don't know." Tim shrugged.

"Well, if they don't lead you to do chores, you might have recreation time. I'll be putting a puzzle together in the corner of the recreation room, that's where you'll find me." Tex winked again before quickly shoving a wheat roll into his mouth just as a guard crossed behind them.

"Timothy Drake?"

Tim heard his name called out in that clear, conniving voice, and his blood went cold. All eyes turned to look at him.

Tim glanced up towards the stage where Ms. Stark stood, waiting expectantly.

"Tim, please come up here."

Tex elbowed him and Tim lurched off his seat. Ms. Stark no longer had the paddle in her hand and was smiling broadly.

"Timothy is our newest pupil. He'll be staying with us for several months, at least." Tim reached Ms. Stark and she put her hands on his shoulders and squeezed.

"Please welcome Timothy into our home with open arms. I'm sure a delightful pal is in it for you, as he is filled with such promise." Ms. Stark's voice cracked with emotion as she squeezed even harder.

Wow, Tim thought. She really does believe she's doing some kind of good, or at least she's a fantastic pretender.

"Now, if you'll put away your trays it's time for recreation and chores before bed, children."

Immediately the cafeteria was alive with chatter as boys rushed to put away their trays, talk with each other, and clap the backs of the punished few. Tim saw Frankie talking animatedly to a gathered crowd in the back. He wondered how long it would be til he could get into that crowd, find out more information about the young gang and its leaders.

Ms. Stark leaned in close to Tim, distracting him, and he could smell her sweet perfume (lilac?), "How was your first day, Timothy?"

Tim shrugged his shoulders, "It was alright."

"Too bad Officer Grayson had to punish you." She tsked, "But better you learn quickly, so you can excel quickly too."

Tim gave a half-hearted nod, it was so hard to play nonchalant with her. Every fiber of his being begged him to obey and please. Up close her lips looked full and red, her eyes a bright blue. She reminded him of someone.

"I'm sure you'll have a better tomorrow." Ms. Stark's perfectly straight white teeth bit down on her bottom lip, "I'd hate to see you end up here tomorrow night."

This time Tim's nod was honest. He didn't want to see that either.

"Good boy, on to recreation with you."

Tim stumbled away from the sweet smelling angel, no, *devil*, towards the hallway doors. Her perfume lingered in his nostrils and he felt dizzy. Maybe she wasn't as old as he thought. His limbs tingled and he shook his head to get rid of that terrible feeling. That terrible feeling that he wanted Ms. Stark to like him.


End file.
